Generally, in both real life and Second Life, I don’t have many haters.
Oh, I’ve had plenty of people that I used to count as friends, but turned out to be merely passing acquaintances at best. Or worse, turned into people that I wanted nothing to do with.
I’m pleased to say that I’ve met a lot of wonderful and inspiring people, some of whom I’ve kept in touch with on-off for several decades. And a few of those have stood by me through some of the roughest times in my life.
A few people dropped off the map entirely, and I sometimes wonder what became of them.
But the haters that I’m aware of can be counted on the fingers of one hand.
Kittlen and I are having a communication breakdown.
Part of that is down to us having less time to spend together in Second Life. She has to work doing deliveries in order to earn enough money to support herself and her kids. I need to work to improve my mental health and move my life forward. I also need regular sleep as part of that. So we’re increasingly only in touch via Discord. And even there, it’s fraught with difficulty. She doesn’t want to dump on me because she knows I find it overwhelming at times. And I don’t really want to distract her when she’s driving.
Then there are the other tensions between us. Her need to be dominated by me, in more ways than I’m able to provide. My exasperation when she responds to my attempts to move her forward with negativity. Her desire to please me, even when I don’t need pleasing. My need to start focussing on healing myself for the first time in years.
I’ve spent the last several days away from both Second Life and Discord, to recharge my mind and body. I had a lot of thinking to do.
I now realise that I’d misread what happened to Kittlen in her Gorean roleplay. And that wasn’t helped by my not being receptive and understanding. I withdrew at the moment when Kittlen needed me most. 🙁
But this is only the most recent example of where I’ve been going wrong in our D/s relationship. Kittlen has been begging me to get into her head via hypnosis, to help her heal from her past traumas. But I’ve held back. Partly out of fear of triggering bad memories, and partly from a lack of confidence in my abilities.
And there is another factor that has been affecting our relationship.
The threat of Brexit has receded somewhat for the time being, although I’m not holding out hope of any breakthrough soon in terms of ending this mess. Still, it means that other stories are now the focus of the news programmes.
Apologies for the lengthy silence. Unfortunately, the ongoing flaming-clown-car-crash that is the UK Government and its attempts to foist a rubbish Brexit deal onto an unwilling Parliament (and by extension the British people) has sapped my spirits this month. We should have had a General Election by now, but for their own selfish reasons the Conservatives are clinging to power and refusing to recognise their disfunction.
The other day, Strawberry Singh, whose blog I read regularly, posted one of her occasional challenges to get people to show off their Second Life avatars. It has been a while since I talked in detail about mine (if you’re interested in reading my previous post on my avatar’s evolution, you can find it here.)
I took the picture above at my private home. The chair I’m sat in is the appropriately-named Hypno Throne made by Dictatorshop. 🙂
I’m wearing the following:
Mesh body—Maitreya Lara
Mesh head—GA.EG Barbera 2.0
Shape—customised by myself, designed to be androgynous-to-fem
Spots—Rainbow Cheetah tattoo by Catseye
Hair—Kelia by EMO-tion
Ears, eyes, antennae, make-up—all from Stargazer Creations
As if we didn’t have enough problems, there’s a mounting body of evidence that Google now has an attention span somewhat shorter than ten years. After ten years or so, Google forgets things. Or, perhaps, Google just can’t be bothered to index these older web pages, because there’s no money in it.
Bacchus isn’t the first to come across this phenomenon. Tim Bray encountered something similar in 2018, and Marco Fioretti expanded upon Bray’s findings. And a year earlier in 2017, Tony Hirst applied the “dementia” term to it.
Bacchus writes further:
[…] Hirst posits that Google is getting both paranoid (because of SEO and other factors) and forgetful. To Hirst, Google seems rooted in the past, crediting signals of link authority that people are mostly not using these days (publication of links on websites) and not able to properly weight or remember the social media signals that accompany most links modernly. It’s a different problem to be sure from the one that Bray and Fioretti highlighted, but the terminology seems applicable here too.
My observations, from my perspective inside the adult/porn parts of the web, are parallel with Hirst’s. Google’s digital dementia is even more severe with respect to adult URLs, because our #pornocalypse-driven exclusion from so much social media means that our links are automatically absent from so many of Google’s modern page quality signals and ranking algorithms.
Bacchus uses screenshots to show the results of various searches for specific content from his blog from Google, compared to the same searches done in Bing.
I stopped using and relying on Google many years ago, and now use DuckDuckGo for most of my searching online. It seems that I made the right call, but I worry about the long-term implications for the Internet as a whole when Google—and Facebook, Twitter and others—have so much control over what we see and find online.
Mine, you make my heart beat faster whenever I see your name appear in my direct messages or notification.
Mine, you are my inspiration, and sometimes my exasperation.
Mine, your pain and hurt is so great, your wounds so deep, that sometimes I wonder if I can ever help you heal. Yet I persevere, guided by the conviction that I shall not be like the others, those who toyed with, abused, abandoned you before.
Mine, you have taught me what it is to love with all of my heart. I did not know I could feel this way again, and had thought that I’d forever remain alone.
Mine, your passions entwine with mine in so many wondrous ways; music, storytelling, artistry, humour and more.
Mine, though our respective physical bodies may be imperfect, and separated by an ocean and a continent, our avatars, our virtual forms, have shared so many great moments and places together. And I hope for many more.
My dollie, my treecat, my girl, it is my honour and privilege to call you Mine, and I hope to be able to do so for many more years.
First of all, apologies for the lack of posts this past month. I have been dealing with the legal and financial processes following my father’s death, and recovering from months of carer duties.
Last week, a call went out in the Gorean Whip Radio staff channel for DJs to cover some coming events in Second Life for the station. As it happened, I now have a bit more flexibility in when I can broadcast, so I offered my services, much to the delight of Lucy, the Whip’s head events organiser.
The first of those was this past Sunday, at the City of Besnit in Second Life. The brief was that they were going to hold a sword tournament, with a series of arena fights and prizes for the winners. After some inquiries on my part, I worked out that I’d need to stock up on rock songs to play during the event, and would be providing commentary to the listeners not present at Besnit.
I had some trepidation in the days leading up to the event, as I’ve not been to many Gorean sims in Second Life, and am aware that I tend to stick out due to being a blue, rainbow-speckled alien. One place I visited wouldn’t let me broadcast from within the city walls due to my appearance, and I worried that the same might happen again. But I was reassured by Irish, the head of DJ management, that I’d be welcome at Besnit and that they were relaxed about my appearance.
Before the event, I got some pointers from Tristan, another Whip manager, who’d broadcast from Besnit the previous day to cover their dance contest. It’s just as well he did, otherwise I’d have gotten lost pretty quickly.
Fighting in Second Life isn’t a natural thing. By default, the most your avatar can do to others is shout at them or push into them, although the latter can be disabled by the owner(s) of the sim you’re in. (There are some other ways of attacking people, collectively known as ‘grieving’, but those are strictly prohibited and you’ll find yourself turfed out pretty quickly.)
In order to do a sword fight, each combatant needs to have a meter attached to them, which registers when they are struck by a sword and indicates how much damage they took. The meter’s display is visible above the combatant’s head, showing green-yellow-orange-red depending on how wounded they are. Once they’re critically wounded, they are forced to the ground. There isn’t any gore or blood as such, apart from the swords showing blood on them after dealing damage.
Another aspect of Second Life that I need to explain at this point concerns the camera position relative to your avatar. By default, this is a short distance behind and above you, but it can be moved and panned around independently. It can also zoom in and focus on something other than yourself. And there’s a particular function that I needed to use, which was the ability to make your camera track another avatar. This was what I ended up doing so that I could track the combat and tell the audience how the combatants were faring.
As it turned out, I needed to do this a lot, because the contest proceeded very rapidly. Eight men started the tournament, with four preliminary rounds, two semifinal, a runner-up final, and then the grand final. Then there was a special round where all eight men had to fight it out at once, with a prize for the last man standing.
And I was doing the best I could to follow all of this, talking as I went. I ended up doing that for over an hour, and needed about 20 minutes after to get my breath back!
This picture was a screenshot I took at home in Second Life, of the outfit I wore to Besnit. I ended up ditching the veil, as it just didn’t fit my face right and I couldn’t edit it. While there are lots of stores selling Gorean clothing, not much of it is designed for blue, rainbow-speckled aliens.